


Babysitting

by Ecanus



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-01
Updated: 2012-08-01
Packaged: 2017-11-11 05:36:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/475086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ecanus/pseuds/Ecanus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deuce gets a little too drunk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Babysitting

You are Clubs Deuce, and you are far too drunk for your own good.

It's been a long night, and while you usually stick to lighter drinks, the boss insisted you treat yourself—you’re the reason the heist had been a success after all, with that strategically placed bomb, taking out more than half of your enemies with the explosion and the structural damage that followed. Though, ‘strategic’ was being generous. It was a total fluke, but you weren’t mentioning that to Slick.

You’re not the roudiest of drunks. Quite the opposite in fact. While the others yell and laugh and ogle pretty women, you sit in a daze, the room spinning, bright colours melding together more and more the longer you forget to blink. It’s not long before your fellow Crew members leave the table for a better time, and just like on every occassion that you end up too drunk to stand, you’re left alone.

Well, besides one other person.

Droog is smart about his drinking. He knows his parameters—just enough to get a buzz but not too much to make a fool of himself. He’s not much of a party person anyway. He’d rather sit at the table and watch over the Crew from afar, glass in one hand and cigarette in the other. Looking after you is sort of a side job. He reminds you to blink, makes small talk to keep you conscious, even fetches you a glass of water to try and sober you up a little bit, though it doesn’t help much. You entertain the thought that maybe he enjoys your company, but it’s doubtful, seeing as how he’s pretty much babysitting you. It makes you a little sad. You sure enjoy his company.

Some time later, the Crew returns to the table to get ready to head out. You don’t move, however. You’re carried. You’re hardly conscious when a pair of arms wraps around you and lifts you out of your chair. Instinctively, you lift your own arms to drape over the person’s shoulders, then fall victim to the gentle rhythmic bounce of their steps. There’s a vague understanding of who’s carrying you, but you don’t bother deciphering your thoughts.

It’s not until you’re jostled by the person descending a ladder that you become somewhat aware of your surroundings, and just how much time has passed. You’re in the hideout. It’s quiet and dark, so you don’t bother opening your eyes, at least until you feel yourself being tilted back, as if being put down. You tighten your grip around their neck, and when you finally peek through your lids you see Droog’s face, emotionless but noticeably tired.

“Hey, Droog?” you say as you feel your back rest against your bed. He glances at you, and you think you catch the slightest bit of surprise in his expression, having not realized you were awake. He looks sort of silly, and you can’t help but let a small drunk grin cross your features. “You’re a good pal, you know?”

“Sure, Deuce,” he says simply, waving the sentiment off as the alcohol talking. You unwrap your arms from his neck but press the small fingers of your right hand against the side of his face.

“I mean it,” you pause to yawn as the exhaustion washes over you again, then return your gaze to his, “You’re a great friend.”

Droog stays that way for a moment, but his expression betrays nothing—at least nothing that your tired mind can decipher. You give up and let your hand fall to the side, finally too sleepy to even keep your eyes open.

The last thing you remember is the brief brush of a mouth against your cheek, the fading tap of shoes, the click of your door, then silence.


End file.
